The  Legacy  of  the  Confederacy 

Locke  Craig 


The 


Howell  Collection 

OF   HISTORICAL 
MATERIALS 


Presented  by  Kay  Kyser 

And  his  Mother 

Emily  Royster  Howell  Kyser 

As  a  Memorial 

To  her  Brother 

Edward  Vernon  Howell 

Dean  School  of  Pharmacy 

1 897-1931 


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THE  UNIVERSITY 

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The  Legacy  of  the  Confederacy 


LOCKE  CRAIG 

GOVERNOR  OF  THE  STATE  OF  NORTH  CAROLINA 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2013 


http://archive.org/details/legacyofconfederOOcrai 


THE  LEGACY  OF 
THE  CONFEDERACY 


Speech  delivered  by  Governor  Locke  Craig,  accepting  the  Monument  to 

the  Women  of  the  Confederacy,  on  the  occasion  of  the 

unveiling   at   Raleigh,    North    Carolina, 

June    10,    1914 


Raleigh 

Edwards  &  Broughton  Printing  Company 

1914 


THE  LEGACY  OF  THE 
CONFEDERACY 

The  State  accepts  this  monument  with  grateful  ap- 
preciation. It  is  the  tribute  of  a  knightly  soldier  to 
the  Women  of  the  Confederacy. 

The  statue  is  epic :  Arms  and  the  Man.  Its  theme 
is  heroism  and  devotion ;  the  inheritance  of  the  chil- 
dren of  the  South.  The  bronze  group  represents  the 
grandmother  unrolling  to  the  eager  youth,  grasping 
the  sword  of  his  father,  the  scroll  of  the  father's 
deeds.  The  bronze  etchings  on  the  faces  of  the 
pedestal  suggest  the  outlines  of  her  story.  To  the 
earnest  beholder  the  statue  is  illumined  with  un- 
folding meaning.  His  vision  will  determine  its  reve- 
lation. 

As  we  look  upon  it,  there  rises  out  of  the  past  a 
time  when  the  spirit  of  war  moved  upon  the  depths  of 
human  thought,  and  summoned  the  elemental  forces 
to  titanic  strife.  We  feel  the  throes  of  the  mighty  up- 
heaval. The  heavens  are  black  with  tempests,  and 
ominous  with  the  voices  of  ancient  war  and  unutter- 
able woe.  We  see  "the  marshaling  in  arms,  and 
battle's  magnificently  stern  array."  Lovers  say 
good-bye  with  tokens  of  plighted  troth;  the  young 
mother  and  the  father  in  uniform,  kneel  together, 
weeping  over  the  cradle  of  their  new  born  babe ;  there 
are  tears  and  everlasting  farewells;  the  cavalcades 
are  filing  off;  the  tramp  of  innumerable  armies  is 
heard.     In  secret  the  mother — this  Woman  of  the 


Confederacy — prays  and  weeps  with  breaking  heart 
for  the  boy  who  marches  away  to  the  wild,  grand 
music  of  the  bugles. 

We  hear  the  din  of  martial  hosts,  and  squadrons 
galloping  in  the  storm.  They  rush  to  the  onset  amid 
the  rattle  of  musketry  and  thunders  of  field  artillery. 
They  defy  carnage  and  death ;  they  are  torn  by  burst- 
ing shells,  they  are  pierced  by  bullets  and  cut  with 
steel ;  they  stagger  and  fall  on  the  bloody  ground ;  the 
resolute  survivors  close  in  and  press  on.  In  the  crash 
of  doom  the  gray  line  stands,  despising  hunger  and 
pain  and  death.  Before  the  numberless  battalions 
they  are  Vikings  in  the  hour  of  despair.  They  feel 
the  pulsations  of  the  unconquerable  hearts  that  beat 
at  home.  At  home  alone,  the  wives  and  mothers, 
these  Women  of  the  Confederacy,  in  patience  and 
suffering,  are  listening  for  the  coming  of  those  who 
will  never  return — will  never  return,  but  march  on 
forever  in  the  militant  hosts  of  the  heroic  of  all  kin- 
dred and  nations,  that  have  redeemed  and  glorified 
the  world. 

We  dedicate  this  monument  as  a  symbol  of  our 
veneration.  We  dedicate  this  monument  as  a  cove- 
nant that  we  too,  in  blessed  remembrance  of  them, 
shall  strive  for  fidelity  and  courage. 

In  unfaltering  obedience  Abraham  would  have 
sacrificed  Isaac.  For  this,  "the  Angel  of  the  Lord 
called  unto  Abraham  out  of  Heaven  and  said.  By 
myself  have  I  sworn,  saith  the  Lord,  for  because  thou 
hast  done  this  thing,  and  hast  not  withheld  thy  son, 

4 


thine  only  son,  that  in  blessing  I  will  bless  thee,  and 
in  multiplying  I  will  multiply  thy  seed  as  the  stars 
of  the  heaven,  and  as  the  sand  which  is  upon  the  sea- 
shore; and  thy  seed  shall  possess  the  gate  of  his 
enemies ;  and  in  thy  seed  shall  all  the  nations  of  the 
earth  be  blessed." 

The  Women  of  the  Confederacy,  in  supreme  conse- 
cration, did  lay  upon  the  altar  of  Dixie  their  first 
born,  the  fairest  and  the  bravest  of  the  world.  And 
because  they  did  this  thing,  we  too  are  the  children 
of  the  Covenant.  The  promise  to  Abraham  was  not 
alone  for  the  seed  of  Abraham.  It  is  the  universal 
decree,  divinely  beautiful  and  divinely  terrible.  It 
is  the  law  of  development  for  all  the  children  of  men. 
Everlasting  faith  is  a  well  of  strength  springing  up 
into  everlasting  life. 

Had  the  men  and  the  women  of  the  South  been 
recreant,  had  they  shrunk  from  the  sacrifice  of  war, 
their  children  today  would  be  the  disinherited  heirs 
of  the  promise,  a  dishonored  and  a  degenerate  people. 

In  the  onward  march  of  the  race,  these  world  con- 
flicts must  come.  That  people  survives,  gathers 
strength,  becomes  puissant  in  human  destiny  that  has 
the  faith  and  the  courage  for  the  supreme  issue.  The 
immediate  result  is  not  the  final  judgment.  Who 
won  at  Thermopylae,  the  Persians  or  the  Spartans? 
Who  was  victorious  at  the  Alamo,  Santa  Anna  or 
Travis  ?  Who  triumphed,  Socrates  or  his  judges, 
Jesus  or  Pontius  Pilate  ? 

The  glory  of  France  is  the  Old  Guard  at  Waterloo. 
The  noblest  feelings  of  the  English  heart  are  stirred 

5 


by  the  Light  Brigade  charging  to  death  at  Balaklava. 
Lexington  and  Guilford  Court  House  are  as  dear  to 
us  as  Trenton  and  Yorktown. 

Disaster  does  not  always  destroy.  The  winds  may 
blow;  the  rains  may  descend;  houses  and  lands  may 
be  swept  away;  but  God  has  placed  His  bow  in  the 
heavens  as  a  promise  that  the  storm  shall  cease,  and 
the  waters  subside :  the  scorching  drouth  may  wither 
the  fields,  untimely  frost  may  kill  our  corn  and  fruit ; 
yet  in  the  procession  of  the  seasons,  the  rain  and  sun- 
shine will  again  clothe  hill  and  mead  in  verdure,  and 
harvest  fields  will  wave  in  golden  plenty.  Armies 
may  be  destroyed,  "Far  called,  our  navies  melt 
away" ;  yet  from  a  land  consecrated  by  the  blood 
of  the  brave,  from  a  soil  enriched  by  glorious  tradi- 
tion, tried  and  purified  by  fire,  a  nobler,  stronger  race 
will  spring.  But  over  the  waste  of  moral  desola- 
tion, there  comes  no  rejuvenating  spring.  Upon  a 
land  blighted  by  the  cowardice  of  those  who  should 
defend  it,  there  is  the  judgment  of  decay  and  death. 

The  heroic  past  is  our  priceless  inheritance.  Our 
armies  were  destroyed ;  our  land  was  smitten  by  war ; 
our  homes  were  ravaged  by  avenging  armies.  We 
were  plundered  by  the  hordes  of  reconstruction.  But 
standing  in  this  land  that  has  suffered,  amid  thi9 
throng  of  gray-haired  veterans,  and  their  kindred  and 
descendants,  I  declare  that  the  legacy  of  the  war  is  our 
richest  possession.  I  utter  the  sentiments  of  every 
maimed  soldier ;  of  every  soldier  who  gave  the  best  of 
his  young  life  to  "the  storm-cradled  nation  that  fell," 

6 


of  every  bereaved  widow  and  mother ;  and  if  I  could 
speak  for  the  dead,  I  would  utter  the  sentiment  of  the 
forty  thousand  sons  of  the  State  who  fell  upon  fields 
of  battle,  when  I  declare  that  they  would  not  revoke 
that  sacrifice. 

Some  of  you  can  remember  when  the  young  soldier 
was  brought  home  dead,  when  the  maiden  was  clothed 
in  her  first  sorrow,  and  the  old  gray  head  was  bowed 
in  the  last  grief.  The  mothers  of  the  South  had  sent 
their  sons  to  the  front  as  the  Spartan  mother  when 
she  delivered  the  shield  to  her  son  with  the  command : 
"Return  with  it,  or  upon  it."  They  wept  in  silent 
desolation,  but  in  their  grief  there  was  exaltation,  for 
they  knew  that  their  sons  had  done  a  soldier's  part, 
that  in  the  tumult  of  historic  days  they  had  fought 
and  fallen  beneath  the  advancing  flag ;  that  in  strange 
lands,  wounded  and  neglected,  they  had  suffered 
without  complaint,  and  bequeathing  a  message  for 
home,  had  died,  as  a  conqueror,  without  a  murmur. 

"While  one  kissed  a  ringlet  of  thin  gray  hair, 
And  one  kissed  a  lock  of  brown." 

Hail  to  you,  Women  of  the  Confederacy,  that  bore 
them  and  nurtured  them,  and  offered  them  for  sacri- 
fice! In  you  and  in  your  descendants  is  vouchsafed 
the  promise  to  Abraham :  Henceforth  all  genera- 
tions shall  call  you  blessed. 

From  the  shadow  of  war  we  sweep  into  the  grander 
day.  The  earth  is  hallowed  because  it  is  the  sepul- 
cher  of  the  brave ;  not  men  whose  victories  have  been 
inscribed  upon  triumphal  columns,   but  men  whose 

7 


memorial  is,  that  in  courage  and  loyalty  for  convic- 
tion, they  were  steadfast  unto  death ;  men  who  have 
been  stoned  and  scourged,  and  quailed  not  before 
the  mighty.  "Their  heroic  sufferings  rise  up  melo- 
diously together  to  Heaven  out  of  all  lands  and  out 
of  all  times,  as  a  sacred  Miserere;  their  heroic  actions 
as  a  boundless  everlasting  Psalm  of  Triumph."  They 
are  the  conquerors.  The  South  has  forever  a  part  in 
that  chorus  of  victory. 


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